Gagging For It
by Justine Samulet Delarge
Summary: Dean gets edgy if it's been too long since Sam has indulged Dean's pain kink. Dean's been pushing for it for weeks now. Sam decides it's time to give Dean what he needs. Sam/Dean, Top!Sam, Bottom!Dean, talking dirty, D/s, implied pain play. Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

Gotta gag you, Dean. 'Cause what I'm about to do to you, you're gonna scream. And as much as I love making you scream, this motel's pretty booked up, and I don't want to get us kicked out. Got plans for you, big brother. And you're gonna love it. But I can't lie. I'm gonna push your limits tonight. See how much pain you'll take for me. 'Cause I know how bad you need this. Need the pain. Need it from me. You've been on edge for fucking weeks. Pushing me. So I'll give you what you've been asking for. Christ, practically begging for it. So pretty when you beg me, Dean.

I think I won't touch your cock until you beg for it. I'll just use these new little tools I picked up just for you. Yeah… look like they're gonna hurt like a sonofabitch, don't they? Won't fuck you until you beg, either. Beg through that gag. Beg with your whole body.

And you better make it good. Better earn it. Take all the pain I give you. Do everything I say. Spread your legs for me, hold them open while I whip you right here, on the inside of your thighs. No squirming and trying to move away when I spank that ass of yours all cherry red, right? Gonna arch your back and push back into the paddle? Can you do that, Dean? Show me what a good little pain slut you are for me? How much you love this?

Like I said, I'm gonna test your limits tonight. Like you've been pushing for. Break you down. But any time it's too much, you make the sign, and we stop. Ok?

So here's the deal. We're gonna play. You're gonna make me come, let me use your mouth and ass, but you don't get to come yet. We're gonna play some more, and then you get my cock nice and hard again. And then I'm going to break out this. Yeah. I know. I saw you staring at that in the shop. Knew you wanted me to use it on you. Gonna make you scream. Make you cry.

And if you're really, really good, and you take it all, and let it all go and scream and sob for me like I know you need, like **I** need—and I do need it, Dean, you have no fucking idea—then I'll reward you. Take care of you. Make you come for me, come so hard with my cock in your ass and my tongue in your mouth, the way you love it. And I'll rub you down with that cream you like, take the sting away, and I'll fuck you again, real slow this time, just grind into you so deep and kiss you, show you how much I love you, how proud I am you took it all for me, show you you're mine. And I'll make you come again. As many times as you want. Let you fuck me. Yeah, thought you'd like that.

So what do you say, Dean? If you're not down, just shake your head. But if you like my plan, nod your head.

Good boy. Let's get started.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was a little drunk. Sam was still at the library, deep into his research. "Just one more hour, Dean. I'm onto something." Promised he'd meet him.

Dean shifted on the bar stool, leaned against the bar and ordered another whiskey (Bulleit, one ice cube). One more for the road. The road, in this case, being the 300 feet between the motel and bar. Dean never drank in public unless he was within stumbling distance of their room, and he never got full-on drunk unless Sam was there to watch his back.

But half-drunk, Dean Winchester was still more alert and dangerous than most hunters stone-cold sober.

Dean took a sip of whiskey. Spicy, a little smoky, just the thing. The girl at the end of the bar, swaying to the jukebox song, winked at him.

Before... well, Before, she would have been just the ticket. Pretty but not too much. A bit bold. Long brown hair, long tanned legs, round ass cradled by her Daisy Dukes. Well groomed, with something about her that said she just loved to get messed up.

Yeah. Would have been just the thing. Before.

The pretty-but-not-too-pretty brunette sidled up next to him, flashing her best bar smile. "Hey."

Dean glanced at the door. No sign of Sammy.

"Hey yourself."

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger like she didn't even realize she was doing it.

"So, if I talk to you, am I gonna get my ass kicked by a pissed-off girlfriend?"

Dean gave her a wolfish grin.

"Nope."

She leaned into him, clearly a little drunk herself.

"This isn't something I do, but you're just about the best-looking man I ever saw, and I was just thinking, damn, doesn't hurt to try, right?"

If Sam walked through the door right then, she'd find out how wrong she was. Sometimes, trying to get a taste of Dean hurt like a sonofabitch. Trying a little sparked Sam's jealousy just enough to make for delicious, all-night, "you're MINE" sex.

But trying a lot could leave a pretty little girl in frightened tears or a grown man with a broken nose.

He tossed back the remaining inch of whiskey with a stiff wrist in one neat motion.

"Darlin', you're just about the prettiest girl I've seen in a long while." Her mouth curled up in a smile tinged with surprise. "But you're barking up the wrong tree." The smile faltered.

Dean leaned close, and whispered in her ear, "It's just that nobody sucks my cock as good as my brother."

The pretty-but-not-too-pretty girl's eyes flew open in shock, and she audibly gasped.

Dean looked over her shoulder. "Perfect timing, Sammy."

She turned to look behind her... and craned her head back, and back, and back.

Sam loomed over her, hard muscles standing out beneath his thin t-shirt.

"Shouldn't oughtta touch what doesn't belong to you."

She held up her hands and backed away a half-dozen steps.

Sam slotted himself between Dean's open legs, pressed his massive palm behind Dean's head and kissed him long and hard in front of everyone, not caring who might object.

"Been too long since I showed you proper who you belonged to, Dean? Need me to remind you, huh? Ok. I'll fucking remind you."

Dean spread his legs wider and pressed against Sam.

Sam smiled grimly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Sure got hard fast. Guess you really do need it bad."

The girl still stood, staring open-mouthed at the two of them.

"You want me to take my belt off and whip your ass cherry-red? Put my mark all over you? Pin you down and fuck you till you scream? Just fucking ask. Get on your knees and ask for it. This way? Come in here and see you slutting around like you used to, see some girl crawling all over you? Pisses me off." Sam was shaking, fingers digging into Dean's thighs.

Dean felt suddenly cold. "Sam."

"This is what you fucking want? Fine. I'll give you what you want. Don't I always?" Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But remember. You asked for it."

Sam didn't say a word as they walked back to the hotel room.

Dean expected to be thrown against the wall the second the door was shut behind them and pinned there.

That didn't happen.

Sam stood facing away from Dean.

The knot in Dean's stomach (_I fucked it up I fucked it up Christ I knew eventually I was gonna fuck this up) _tightened.

"Sammy?"

"Do you miss it?"

Dean's mouth opened, but no words came out.

Sam turned, examining Dean's face carefully.

"Is that it? It's not that I'm not enough for you. It's that I'm a guy. And you miss it." Sam held his face perfectly still, but his eyes gleamed with tears.

The knot seized up.

"Fuck. No! No. I don't miss sex with women. That's not it. I mean—there IS no it. Sam. C'mon." Dean crossed to Sam and tipped his head up to kiss him.

Sam kept his arms at his side, and his hard mouth did not kiss back. Dean backed up a step, stunned.

"If you just wanted me to play rough, you know all you have to do is look at me the right way." It's true that Dean could trigger Sam's dominant side just by looking up at him through his thick eyelashes a certain, soft way, and game on. "But this. Making me see that. Deliberately. Knowing how bad it hurts. I just… why're you doing this?"

Dean hadn't realized. He should have realized. The few times he'd done this before, Sam had manhandled him, claimed him, punished and used him with such passion and ferocity, Dean was high on it for days. Sam would drive into him hard, chanting "Mine, mine..." over and over, his face contorted. He thought the expression was one of dark pleasure. He realized only now it was pain.

Without thinking, Dean dropped. Like a soldier before his king, Dean went to his knees before Sam, then took Sam's hand and pressed the palm to his cheek. So Sam could feel the tears running down his face.

"Sam…" Dean choked out his brother's name like a sob. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" and then Dean just leaned against Sam's massive thigh, chest heaving, fighting hard not to cry.

Sam's other hand stroked Dean's hair. "Tell me."

The words spilled out of Dean in an uncontrollable flood. "You just… I don't fucking deserve you, Sammy, and we both know it. And that one time, when that girl grabbed my ass, and you just went fucking nuts on me, Sam, you marked me up and said, fuck, you said you wanted to make me wear a collar that said Property of Sam Winchester in public, and the way you… you were so… goddamn it…"

Sam let out a deep breath. "Oh."

"Sammy, don't be mad at me. Don't you be mad at me."

"Stand up." Sam pulled Dean to his feet, and gripped him tight. "It's ok. I get it now. Dean. Shh. It's ok."

If Dean cried in Sam's arms at that moment, neither of them would ever tell another soul.

"It felt good, when I was rough with you and said you belonged to me, didn't it." Sam's voice was low and soothing. "Made you feel it in your body how much I wanted you. Loved you. So much I couldn't bear the thought of someone else touching you. So much I'd punish you for letting them touch you even a little."

"Yeah. Yeah." Dean's voice was muffled, mouth pressed up against Sam's chest.

"If I'm jealous, it means I still want you more than anything."

Dean's chest hitched. "Yeah."

"Look at me." Sam touched his finger to Dean's jaw and tipped his face up. He smiled, and this time, the smile reached his eyes. "Listen to me. Real careful. You're all I want. You're all I've ever wanted, even back when I was way too young to think that way about anyone, least of all my big brother."

Dean was mesmerized by the intensity in Sam's gaze.

"Maybe you don't know how much you're worth. But I do. And I'm gonna show you—if you stop letting barflies climb all over you to kick it off."

Dean looked down, ashamed.

"So… you like it when I mark you up?"

Dean looked up again, face lit up. Sam had that look. That look that made Dean's legs feel unsteady.

"I like it a lot."

"Marks on your neck, so people can see? Or do you mean the bite marks?" The bite marks that Sam left, deep purple bruises on his inner thighs, his chest, his hip.

Dean wiped the last of the tears from his cheeks. "Both."

Sam's hand went to the back of Dean's neck, tightened hard.

"You like being mine."

Dean shuddered. Sam inhaled sharply, and bit Dean's neck, sucking and tonguing his skin.

"Always been yours, Sammy."

"But you want people to know."

Dean threw his head back and bared his neck to Sam. "Yes. Fuck. Yes."

"Want me to walk into a bar in a skin-tight shirt, feel everyone staring at me like they do, wanting me, and make them see that I chose you."

Dean made a sound that could only be described as a whimper.

Sam slid his hand along Dean's thigh and grabbed his cock, squeezing it hard. "Want them to know that this belongs to me. Make them imagine what I do to you. Wishing it was them."

"Sam. Fuck. Please."

"Maybe you even want me to make you show me how completely you belong to me. Want me to yank your jeans down around your ankles like this, in the middle of the bar—" Sam tugged Dean's 501s down, exposing his bare flesh and hard cock, and peeled off his t-shirt—"bend you over a barstool"—Sam turned Dean to face the little motel table and bent him over, palms on the table, ass jutting out—"and take my belt off and smack your ass right there in front of God and everybody…" Sam slid his leather belt free and doubling it, gripped both ends and snapped it.

The sound sent a spasm of pleasure through Dean, visible in the way his body undulated.

Sam leaned over, pressing himself against Dean's naked flesh. "I get it now. I know exactly what you need. And here's the thing you don't know, Dean. I know exactly, precisely how to give it to you. There's a lot I learned while I was at Stanford I never told you. I've got a whole set of skills you don't know about. Trained by the best." Dean opened his mouth, but before he could ask a single question, Sam slipped a hand up underneath Dean's chest, pinched a nipple between two fingers, and began to squeeze, slowly increasing the pressure until Dean gasped.

"You like that, Dean?"

Dean nodded furiously. Sam pinched harder.

"Say it. Wanna hear you talk."

Dean swallowed hard. "I like that."

"Good. Me too." Sam rubbed the flat of his hand over Dean's lower back. "Now you're gonna show me how sorry you are about that little stunt. And I'm gonna work you over good. Give you what you need. And the next time you need it, you're not gonna tease some poor little girl into rubbing up against you thinking she can get a taste, right?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

"What are you gonna do?" Sam wrapped the buckle end of his belt around his hand and let the end hang down, trailing it against the back of Dean's thighs.

"Ask."

"Yeah you are. You're gonna ask for it, real nice and pretty. Get on your knees in front of me. Say, 'I need it, Sam.'" Sam swung the belt against Dean's skin lightly. "Can you do that?"

Dean's cock was so engorged it felt like the skin was going to snap. "Yeah. Sam. C'mon. Please."

"Nobody fucking touches you like that but me, are we clear? Ever." Sam leaned closer and hissed into Dean's ear, "You don't have permission."

Dean's hips bucked forward. "Ok. Ok. I promise. Sam. Fucking need you so bad. Please. Need to come."

Sam laughed. "Dean, you're a long way off from earning the right to come. Gotta make amends first. Gotta take your punishment."

Dean groaned.

Sam stepped back and snapped the belt against the back of Dean's right thigh, placing it square in the center. Dean gritted his teeth.

"We're not gonna stop until you're making all kinds of noise for me, Dean. Gonna make you feel it." Another smack of the belt, on the left thigh. "Gotta show me how much you can take for me. Show me you're sorry. Show me how bad you want me to fuck you."

And then Sam let loose with a flurry of smacks, working Dean hard on his ass and thighs, alternating sides, never hitting the same spot twice in a row. Then he paused and rubbed his hand over the pink flesh. "You don't know it, Dean, but I'm being kind. I'm letting you have it in a regular rhythm, so you can anticipate the next hit. Like that, it's soothing. I mean, it hurts like a sonofabitch, but it's soothing. If I were to do it out of rhythm, that would make you anxious." Sam leaned in and kissed Dean deep, licking at Dean's lips, thrusting his tongue inside his mouth. Dean sucked on it shamelessly, arching his back, moaning into Sam's mouth.

"That's my boy. Like that."

Sam pulled back. "Ok, I'm gonna go harder now. Gonna see what your baseline is. Keep your hands flat on the table. If you raise a hand up, or try to stop me, I'm gonna put you to bed hard and not let you come until the morning. We clear?"

Dean nodded.

"Show me how much pain you can take for me, Dean."

Sam went to work in earnest with the belt, snapping the leather against Dean's meaty calves, then up on his ass cheeks, back down his thighs, striping Dean's skin with red marks. He kicked Dean's legs apart wider so he could work the inside of his thighs, which evoked harsh sounds from Dean. Dean cried out and writhed and rose up on his toes and cursed, but he did not lift his hands from the table.

"So beautiful, Dean. You're so beautiful like this. Taking it so good for me." Sam pinched a welt between his fingers, making Dean gasp.

Then his hand dropped lower. When he felt Sam's fingers on Dean's balls, gathering them together in his hand, Dean trembled. "Sammy?"

Sam murmured, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." Sam pulled down gently, tightening the skin, and lightly slapped them with the end of the belt.

The pleasure and pain were perfectly balanced, and Dean cried out, pushing back into it.

"Knew you'd love that, Dean." Sam's voice sounded wrecked. He slapped Dean's balls over and over, carefully but enough to sting. "Fuck. You have no idea the things I'm gonna do to you, Dean. Thought you might have it in you, but didn't want to scare you. But look at you. You fucking LOVE this."

It was true. Here was Dean, bent over a motel table, legs spread, ass and thighs red and welted from his brother's belt, gasping and squirming as Sam tugged and spanked his balls, on the verge of coming from that alone.

"Sammy. Please. Sam. Please. Please."

"What do you want?"

"Want to make you come. Want to come for you."

"Yeah? Want me to fuck you?" Sam released Dean, and trailed a fingertip over the pink whorl of Dean's asshole. At the feel of Dean's relaxed, lubed asshole, he sucked in a breath. "Goddamn. You got yourself all ready for me. All clean and ready to take my cock?"

"Yeah. Made myself ready for you. Christ. Please. Sam. Fuck me."

Sam pressed the fingers of his left hand over Dean's testicles, protecting them, and snapped the end of the belt against Dean's ass, dead center.

Dean made a strangled cry.

"Yeah. That one's nice, isn't it? Stings so good, getting your asshole whipped. Burns, but it just makes you want to fuck so bad. Want to do anything he wants, the guy doing it to you." Sam's hand rose and fell, snapping the belt against Dean's asshole again, and again, and again.

Dean felt a black surge of jealousy well up in him. "Sam. You…"

"Told you I was trained by the best. Trained to be a perfect sub, Dean. Trained in everything. Because you can't be a good top until you've learned how to be a perfect bottom. Shown you can take what they want to give you and thank them for it."

Dean growled. He actually growled.

Sam pulled Dean up, picked him up in his arms and carried him to the bed. Throwing him down, he quickly stripped off his clothes, and crawled on top of him.

"What's the matter, Dean? Don't like the thought of someone else touching me? Some other guy doing anything he wanted to me? Making me do so many things?" Sam sat up, ass pressed against Dean's cock, and ran his hand over his chest, pinching his nipples.

Dean's jaw tightened.

"Wouldn't want to have walked in on him and me together, huh?"

"I'd have fucking killed him, Sammy. Still might, if I find out who he is."

Sam laughed. "Didn't think so. Doesn't feel good, does it?"

Dean bit his lip. "Hurts. Fucking hurts."

Sam leaned over Dean. "Yeah. Yeah it does. Don't ever fucking do that to me again, ok?"

Dean murmured, "Never. Swear."

Sam spread Dean's thighs wide open and pressed himself inside, working past both rings of muscle. Dean opened to him without resistance.

"Yeah. God, Sammy, you feel so good. Need this. Need you."

Sam drove inside Dean all the way, then held himself up with one hand, and placed the other on Dean's chest. "Mine."

It felt like a ritual, a claiming using real power. Dean bared his throat, and murmured, "Yours. Yours. Yours."

Sam fucked Dean with a vengeance, batting Dean's hand away when he tried to touch his cock. "Not till I say. Not till I fucking say." He worked his thick cock inside Dean, mouth locked onto Dean's, sucking in his cries and moans and gasps, grinding deep and rolling his hips until Dean was practically in tears, then pulling out nearly all the way, and fucking him with long, punishing strokes.

Dean became desperate, begging to come in an unending stream of pleas. Sam just gripped his face with one hand and said, "Fucking take it. You'll come when I tell you to."

Sam kept fucking him, moving through a series of positions, turning him on his side with his topmost leg extended up between their bodies, flipping him on his back and hauling his hips up high, knees bent back and weight supported by his shoulders, squatting over him and fucking him so deep Dean's vision went white, pulling Dean on top and making him hold still while Sam pistoned up into him, then on his back again, thighs spread painfully wide, Sam thrusting his tongue in Dean's mouth in perfect time with his cock in Dean's ass, making it feel so unbearably good for Dean but not enough to come, just taking his own pleasure however he wanted to.

Finally, Dean let the desperation fall away and surrendered to Sam in a manner so complete, he didn't even know it was possible. His body relaxed completely, thighs falling open to either side, his head fell back, and he moaned, "Sam. Sam. Sam."

Sam moaned, low and throaty. "There it is." He grabbed Dean's ass and worked him down on his cock, reveling in Dean's pliant body beneath him. Finally, he wrapped one hand around Dean's cock and worked it hard, driving into Dean at just the right angle, just the right speed. "Fuck. So good." His hips snapped forward faster. "Dean. Come for me. Now."

And Dean obeyed, howling out his orgasm like a wild thing, shaking and screaming with the force of it. And Sam followed not long after, calling out "Fuck, Dean, fuck, fuck, Dean…" and then laughing through the last throes.

Eventually, they recovered the power of speech and movement. Sam got up and brought Dean a glass of cold water, and cleaned Dean up with a warm wet towel. Dean rolled into Sam's arms without a word of complaint about cuddling. And nestled in and said, "Thank you." And even more astonishingly, in a clear voice (not muffled or mumbled), he said, "I love you, Sam."

Sam just grinned at him, a little dumbfounded.

Dean mock-punched him on the shoulder. "But tomorrow, you're telling me all about this training thing, dude."

"You're sure you're ready to hear about that?"

Dean nodded.

Sam pulled him closer and kissed him slow and deep. "Ok. But remember. You asked for it."


	3. Chapter 3

NOTE: _This takes place immediately after the Prologue, where Dean is gagged and about to be well taken care of by Sam, NOT the chapter where Sam promises to tell Dean how he was trained._

"Keep your hands where they are. You can grab onto the arms, but don't move your hands unless I say so." Both Sam and Dean had legitimate reasons why they didn't like to be tied up. And it was bad form for a hunter to ignore basic safety. Too many monsters—human and otherwise—would love to get ahold of them and do some damage. Not wise to make yourself an easy target, no matter how bad you want to tie your big brother up so he can't move. So Sam had made Dean strip naked for him—slowly—while he leaned back in the motel's padded easy chair and watched, snapped a cock ring on him, told him to sit on the chair and gagged him, but relied on psychological control, not physical restraints, to keep him in place.

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from the implements Sam had laid out on the small table. They did look fearsome.

Sam picked up one of the black leather gloves with tiny, thin metal tacks bristling along the fingers, and slid it on his right hand, snapping it closed at the wrist. Dean's eyes widened. "These are called vampire gloves." Sam pulled the other one on and extended his palms, flexing and curling his fingers. "See?" He gripped Dean's face gently, the points barely making contact, and leaned down to kiss his throat. Sam licked and nipped at his skin, holding his face perfectly still. "Not so bad, right?" Sam traced his fingertips along Dean's throat.

Dean swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing under Sam's fingertips.

Sam moved his hand to the back of Dean's neck, and held him in place for a hard, searching kiss. Dean moaned into Sam's mouth.

"So good for me, Dean." Sam tightened his fingers, driving the tiny points deeper into Dean's flesh. Dean shiver-gasped, arching his back, pressing into Sam's hand even harder.

"You see, Dean, your hair is too damn short for me to get a hold of it like I want to. Wanna wrap my fingers in your hair and hold you still, tighten my grip real slow until it hurts. Hurts the way you like it. Hold you still like that and kiss you, mark you up real pretty on your neck. Make you just hold still and take it."

Sam sucked a livid red mark into the flesh over the hollow of Dean's throat. "Wanna suck my name on your throat, Dean. Great big hickey that spells out S. A. M." Dean shuddered, gripping the arms of the chair tight with a moan. "Fuck. You like that." Sam stroked Dean's cheek with his thumb. "Want it. Want me to take you out, take you around town all day, hit all the tourist spots, keep you outside where everyone can see you, see my name sucked into your throat. All those people looking at you, knowing what that means. What I must have done to you all night."

Dean made a sound over the gag. Sam chuckled. "Sounded like you were trying to say please. You trying to say please, Dean?" Dean nodded, little patches of color rising on his cheeks.

"Ok. But not tonight. Got so much planned for you already. Gonna save that one for later."

Sam knelt in front of Dean, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and trailed one finger down Dean's chest, scratching the tiny needles along his skin too softly to draw blood. Still, when he pressed a bristling fingertip against Dean's nipple, Dean hissed, more in anticipation than discomfort.

"Easy. Starting you off slow." Dean took a deep breath through his nose. Sam made little circles against his nipples, then drew both hands down Dean's chest, down the front of his thighs, back up along the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.

"Keep those legs spread, Dean. Don't you dare move." Dean blinked rapidly, teeth worrying the gag, as Sam scraped the gloves along his inner thighs, pressed them into his flesh. When he pulled his hands off, the skin showed tiny indentations.

Sam carefully avoided touching Dean's cock, already leaking precum on his stomach. He cupped Dean's balls in his hand, squeezing gently. Dean threw his head back and parted his thighs wider.

"That's what I want. Real nice. Taking whatever I want to give you." Sam squeezed more firmly, gave a little tug, and Dean moaned over the gag. Sam's white teeth flashed in a wicked smile, and he rolled Dean's balls in one hand, pulling down, and pressed the pad of his index finger into the patch of flesh below his balls. Dean grunted over the gag, and pushed his hips up into it.

"Such a little pain slut. How'd I get so lucky? See, this right here?" Sam tugged a little harder, and Dean cried out, sinking back in the padded chair, lifting his feet off the ground, splaying himself wide open for Sam, droplets of precum flowing from the slit of his cock. "This is proof there is a God. And he loves me."

Sam worked him like that for another few minutes, making Dean writhe and gasp. "Stand up." Dean did as he was told. Sam gripped his bare ass with both hands. "Keep your hips back. Don't let your cock touch me. Haven't earned it just yet." He thrust his tongue into Dean's mouth and squeezed his ass hard, digging the sharp points into his flesh. Dean held still obediently, trembling but not letting his cock touch Sam. "God, you're desperate for it, aren't you? Bet you'd love me to just let you rub against me a little." Sam tightened his grip a little more, and sucked on Dean's lower lip. Dean panted into Sam's mouth, fingers balled into fists at his sides. "But I'm not going to let you."

Sam untied the gag. "Need to use your mouth for a while. But this goes back on after. And don't say a fucking word unless I tell you to." Dean swallowed, darting his tongue out to lick his lips, and nodded.

"Knees." Like a good soldier, Dean obeyed instantly, dropping to his knees in front of his brother. "Take it out. No hands." Dean mouthed the button of Sam's jeans, clasping his hands behind him at the small of his back, and tongued it open, then bit the zipper pull and tugged it all the way down. "Fuck," Sam whispered, his cock snapping free and bobbing in front of Dean's face.

Gripping Dean's face, Sam moved his hips, dragging the head of his cock over Dean's mouth. "Open up for me." Dean stared up at Sam, keeping his green eyes locked onto Sam's gaze, and parted his mouth. "Goddamn, Dean. You're so fucking beautiful." Sam slid his cock into Dean's mouth with a shudder and a groan.

Dean sealed his mouth around his brother's cock and sucked him just the way Sam liked it, not too fast, not trying to take the entire length, but concentrating on the first half, keeping the suction strong both forward and back, letting his tongue play on the underside, paying careful attention to the spot where the head met the shaft.

"Christ. Dean." Sam stroked Dean's hair, letting Dean suck him. "Best cocksucker on the planet. Not gonna last." He grinned, and placed his hands on either side of Dean's head. "Good thing I don't have to."

The sharp points of the vampire gloves dug in as he tightened his grip. "Relax your jaw. Gonna fuck your mouth." Dean released the suction and loosened his jaw and tongue. Sam thrust deep into Dean's mouth, using it, taking his pleasure exactly the way he wanted to. Dean's eyes teared up, and saliva dripped from his mouth, but he kept his hands clasped behind him and took every inch of Sam's cock, eyes open, watching Sam watch him.

"So fucking hot." Sam tensed up, strokes becoming shallower, scraping the underside of his cock against Dean's tongue. "Sweet little mouth. Gonna make you swallow it all. Every drop."

Dean moaned.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Sam's voice rose in pitch, and then he was spilling, hot and salty-sweet into Dean's mouth, pulse after pulse, spattering the back of Dean's throat, flooding his mouth.

After a moment, Sam pulled out and tipped Dean's face up. "Show me."

Dean let his jaw fall open and showed Sam the thick-white come he held in his mouth, waiting for permission.

"Wider." Dean opened his mouth wider. Sam bit his lower lip. "I ought to be taking pictures. Goddamn if that's not the hottest thing I've ever seen." Dean blinked, the pleasure of Sam's praise washing over him.

Sam stared at Dean's mouth for a long time, drinking in the sight.

"Swallow it." Dean closed his eyes and let the come slide down his throat with a low, raspy moan, and swiped his tongue over his lips.

Sam stripped the gloves off, throwing them in the corner, and dropped to his knees. He kissed Dean slow and deep, licking into his mouth, shuddering at the taste of him on Dean's tongue, running his hands all over Dean's body until Dean was gasping and clutching at Sam's shirt. Sam pulled his mouth free and pressed it to the top of Dean's head. "So good. So good. So good."

Then he dragged himself upright and brought Dean to his feet. He gave Dean a drink of water, kissed him again, tongue playing along the silken skin of the inside of Dean's lips, then secured the gag once more.

"Ok. Easy part's over."


	4. Chapter 4

Stripping off his shirt, Sam stretched his arms overhead, a smile curling the corners of his mouth as Dean watched his muscles ripple and move.

"Get on the bed. Face the mirror. Hands and knees. Legs spread."

Dean complied, facing the mirror on the dresser.

Sam slapped his thigh. "I said, legs spread. Wider." Dean stretched his thighs open wider. "Good boy. Let me see everything." Sam loved to see Dean spread himself wide open for Sam's gaze.

Sam walked around to the table on which he had laid out the gear. He picked up a rotating double-sided pinwheel with long metal spikes attached to a handheld metal rod.

Dean's eyes went wide.

"This looks worse than it is. Here." Sam wheeled the spikes along Dean's forearm. "They don't pierce the skin. Just sensation play. Doesn't really hurt…unless you use it after you've spanked someone's ass nice and red." Sam walked to the side of the bed and ran the device down Dean's spine, and rolled it over the curve of his ass.

Dean curled his back like a cat and let out a deep sigh. "Feels good, doesn't it? Like getting your back scratched." Sam trailed the device slowly down the back of Dean's muscular thigh, along his calf, back up and across his lower back to do the same along his other leg, Dean's body loosening with pleasure.

"We'll see how you feel about it again later." A faint hiss and rattle indicated Sam had removed his belt.

Dean gritted his teeth and lowered his head. At that, Sam smacked his ass hard. "Uh-uh. Head up. Keep it up. Wanna watch your face."

Dean raised his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The sight made him shiver. Naked on the bed, fucked-out lips parted by the gag, eyes gone dark forest green, ass high in the air awaiting whatever Sam had in store; Sam shirtless and sheened with sweat already, standing behind him, a hungry expression on his face.

The first crack of the belt across Dean's ass barely prompted a twitch. He had a tremendous tolerance (_hunger_) for pain. Sam knew how to read every flicker on Dean's face, every inhalation of breath, the way he sweated and moved. Knew where the pain fell on Dean's spectrum, could sense when the spectrum had shifted, so attuned was he to his brother. They didn't even need to use safe words. Never had. The one always knew when the other was at that point without needing to say anything.

And this is why Dean needed this so bad, needed it from Sam. He could relax completely, trusting Sam to track his reactions, to know how much to give him, when to weave in pleasure, when to ratchet up the pain, when to let him come, when to deny him.

Part of what Dean loved so much about their sessions like this was the luxury of Sam's sheer focus on Dean. Nothing else—literally nothing else—existed for Sam when they played like this. Just Dean. Being the center of Sam's everything was better than any drug ever invented.

And part of it was that Dean truly was a pain slut. His pain/pleasure circuits had become hopelessly entangled. He could (and had) come just from Sam strapping him with a belt. Couldn't go deep into the pain play all the time—it was far too intense. But he rode the need in waves. And when the wave rose high and needed to break, Sammy always knew.

The smacks of the belt jolted Dean, and the sensations went straight to his cock. The way he felt the sensation of pain changed over time. At first, it just hurt. Then the hurt mixed with pleasure in equal parts. What he really needed was for it to push further, when the pain no longer threatened to make him come untouched, but loosened something much deeper until it broke free and poured out of him in screams, sobs, whole body shaking with it. A soul-deep release that broke him apart completely, and let him come back together better.

Sam worked Dean over thoroughly, laying the belt down in even stripes, precise and controlled. He strapped him along the backs of his thighs, snapped the tip of the belt against Dean's calves until his feet curled, and smacked his ass again and again until the skin was vivid red, making Dean groan and buck his hips and cry out through his gag. Between strokes, he watched Dean in the mirror, biting his lip at the expressions of pleasure/pain on his face.

Sam increased the strength of each stroke. Dean's body was slick with sweat, each sharper sensation causing his body to loosen, yield to Sam even more, arching his back and pushing his ass up into the belt. "Good boy," Sam whispered and whipped his ass again and again.

Sam paused, and smoothed his hand over Dean's ass. "Cherry red. Just like I promised." He rubbed it, soothing the worst of the sting, and Dean's eyes welled up in grateful tears.

Sam picked up the double pinwheel again. "Let's see what it feels like now." Sam drew the tool across Dean's welted ass. He hissed and clenched his hands into fists. "Oh, this is too good to waste." Sam positioned himself alongside Dean, kneeling on the floor, and undid the gag again. "Wanted to keep you gagged for this whole thing, but your fucking mouth. Need it." Sam kissed Dean. "S'ok to make noise."

Sam sealed his mouth over Dean's and ran the pinwheel down Dean's thigh, pressing the sharp metal spikes into his reddened skin, swallowing Dean's cries into his mouth, making Dean suck his breaths from Sam's mouth, feeling his lips tremble. "Fuck, Dean. So hot." Dean fell onto his side facing Sam, and let his mouth fall open under the onslaught of Sam's lips and tongue, pressing his palms to Sam's chest and digging his nails in, hissing and writhing as the savage little pinwheel pressed into his sore flesh. "Please. More. Please. Sam."

"Don't you worry. You'll get more. As much as you can take. And a tiny bit more."

Sam set the pinwheel aside, and put the gag back on. "You're gonna need it. On your back. Facing me. Hold your thighs open—wide." Dean shivered. He knew what was coming next.

Sam took the belt in hand again as Dean positioned himself, gripping the backs of his thighs with both hands and pulling himself open shamelessly for his brother, thighs spread as wide as possible, cock and balls and the tight pink center of his ass totally exposed.

"Remember. Keep your legs open for me. Don't try to close them, or move your hand to stop me." And with that, Sam went to work.

Each lick of the belt on Dean's sensitive inner thighs sent a spasm through his body, the pain sharp and stinging, peaking a second after the belt struck flesh. Sam strapped him hard, not tender little kitten licks, but fierce and unrelenting. Dean cried out through the gag, hands pulling frantically at his thighs which were trying to seal themselves shut of their own accord, holding them open for Sam through sheer will. A tear spilled from the corner of his eye, and Sam immediately leaned down and licked it off. "Doing so good for me. So beautiful."

Sam lifted up Dean's ass with both hands, so his knees were touching the mattress, and licked a broad stripe up the sweet center of his ass. Dean made a rough, debauched groan and threw his head back. "That's it, Dean. You get a little reward. Not gonna let you come yet. Just gonna make you feel good." Sam plunged his tongue into Dean's ass, scraping it in circles, pulling out and lapping at him slowly, twisting back inside him, making his tongue hard and stabbing into him, then softening it again and lapping at him like he had all night.

Dean grabbed his ass cheeks with both hands and spread himself wide open for Sam, eyes locked onto his face. Sam groaned. "Yeah. Like that. Like it when you totally lose control for me. Show me how much you love it."

Dean dug his fingers in and pulled himself even more open, fucking up into Sam's mouth.

Sam licked him deep and sloppy, getting him nice and wet. "Love this, don't you. Doing anything I want." Dean nodded feverishly, so high on pleasure spikes and endorphins that his pupils were blown wide, his eyes nearly black. "Remember what I said when we first got started tonight? Said you were gonna make me come, let me use your mouth and ass. I was gonna wait, but fuck, Dean. Ass this sweet, all the pretty little sounds you've been making, I need to come again. Come in this perfect ass of yours."

Dean simply held himself open for Sam, pressing his thighs back even wider, and pleaded through his gag with wordless sounds, begging with his whole body.

"Can't quite make that out. Are you saying please?" Dean nodded. "You begging me to fuck you?" Furious nods.

Sam sat up, lowering Dean's legs to the mattress. Dean whimpered.

"Don't cry baby. Gonna fuck you. But first things first." Sam walked back to the table and returned with two narrow cylinders joined by a chain. "Promised you I'd use all the new toys tonight, and I keep my word."

Gripping one of the cylinders with both hands, Sam pushed down and a tiny wire claw extended from the end. "I've tried these on myself. They feel like they're going to pierce your nipple, but they don't break the skin."

Dean just stared.

"C'mon. Breathe. You can handle them. Know you can. Here. I'll go first." Sam brought the claw to his chest, and slowly released the slide, clamping the device onto his nipple. He bit his lower lip, thrusting his jaw out, breathing deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth. When the claw was completely attached, he let the chain dangle, sweat beaded on his brow but not making so much as a murmur of pain, and gave Dean a dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

"If I can take it, you can take it."

Dean swallowed, and lay back on the mattress.

The first touch of the metal talons digging into his nipple simply made Dean suck in a breath through his nose, but as Sam let them bite harder, Dean arched off the bed, digging his fingers into the bedspread, grunting what sounded like, "Fuck…fuck…fuck…" through his gag.

"Breathe, Dean." Sam held the clamp in place, not letting it tighten any more, until Dean's breathing had regulated, and he was again flat on the mattress. "Good. Real good. Ok, here we go." Sam let the clamp close down completely, and stroked Dean's side as he panted and writhed. "So beautiful like this, Dean." Again, the pleasure of Sam's approval washed over Dean like a wave. He so wanted to do well for him.

"I'm going to put the other one on now." Dean gulped, the talons biting into his flesh so sharply he was sure they must be piercing the nipple, but one glance told him that wasn't so. So he nodded his assent.

Sam applied the second clamp as slowly and carefully as the first. Dean sucked in great deep breaths through the gag, face bright red, cock leaking clear fluid over his belly. Sam traced a finger through it and brought it to his lips. "Taste so good, Dean." He licked his finger clean.

Dean shifted position, and the chain moved. He gasped and bit his lip. Sam stroked his cheek. "Doing so good. Taking all this for me. Love you so fucking much. Can you take a little more?"

Dean would have let himself be tortured for 40 years for Sam.

Hell. He had.

He could do this. Needed to do this.

He nodded, tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Gonna fuck you now, Dean. I don't want you to come yet. Know it's gonna be hard with my cock in your ass, but I want you to try real hard not to come. This is gonna help distract you." Sam touched the chain lightly with his fingertip, moving it down so it pulled oh-so-lightly.

Dean gave a low sob.

"Hurts like a sonofabitch, doesn't it?" Dean murmured what sounded like a yes. "Ok, here's the deal. The faster you can make me come, the sooner those come off."

Sam stripped his jeans off, grabbed the bottle of lube from the end table and pumped two shots into the palm of his hand. Slicking his cock, he crawled onto the bed and laid back, lacing his hands together behind his head, arm muscles taut. "Come on."

Dean sat up, hissing when the chain swung down and pulled at the metal claws, and settled on top of Sam, who kept his hands where they were. He impaled himself on Sam's cock quickly, sinking down to the base, eliciting a groan from Sam.

Dean held himself in place, expecting Sam to hold his hips and fuck up into him, controlling the speed and angle like he liked to do when he topped, but Sam kept his hands behind his head and grinned up at him lazily.

"Ride my cock, Dean. Make me come."

Dean gritted his teeth and began to move. Each motion jolted the talon clamps, sending sharp, biting pain through his nipples. He moved faster, fucking Sam harder, grinding on his cock, desperately trying not to come, desperate to make Sam come so the fiendish clamps would come off. He worked himself on Sam's thick cock, undulating like he did this for a living, gyrating his hips, trying to make Sam come as fast as possible, a half-moan, half-sob punched out of him with each bounce.

Sam bucked his hips up at the end of each stroke, making Dean shake more with each thrust, making the chain dance. "Come on, Dean. Harder. Fuck me like you mean it." Dean waggled his hips frantically, crying out through his gag, squeezing his ass muscles tight, milking Sam's cock, gripping Sam's shoulders, his face bright red, fucking him hard and fast, rising up the long, long length of Sam's huge cock and slamming back down again.

"Yeah. Like that. Fuck. Dean." Sam sat up and grabbed Dean's back, forcing him down harder, biting down on Dean's shoulder, the press of his chest against Dean's clamped nipples driving a scream through the gag, and with that, Sam was coming, body shaking, cock spasming inside Dean, pulsing so powerfully Dean could feel each distinct throb.

Sam had barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he reached up and delicately removed first one clamp, pressing upward on the cylinder to relieve the pressure slowly and release the claw, then the other.

When they were off, he pulled Dean down into his arms, pressing his lips to Dean's neck, holding him close, murmuring to him until his shivering stopped. "So good, Dean. You did so good. Love you so much. So beautiful. Perfect. That was… Christ, Dean. Never come that hard in my life. What you do to me…" Sam's fingers worked at the back of Dean's head and undid the gag, wiped Dean's mouth with a wet cloth he'd stashed on the end table, trailed his fingertips over Dean's mouth, and then kissed him, so sweet and slow and reverently it made Dean dizzy.

Sam stroked the long, hard muscles of Dean's back, down the sleek expanse of his thigh. "You didn't come." His eyes flashed wide open in surprise.

Dean nuzzled his face into Sam's chest. "Said you didn't want me to."

Sam's expression was a mix of pride and shock. "Fuck. Never thought you could… damn." Sam trailed his fingers down Dean's stomach, and brushed his aching, rock-hard cock for the first time all night. His hips bucked up. "God. Sammy."

"We should stop. Save the rest for another time." Sam nibbled Dean's lower lip gently. "You've done so well. Taken so much. You deserve to come."

Dean shivered, and craned his head to look at the table with all the toys on it. Looked at the one still laying there, unused.

"Sam."

"You sure?" Sam tipped Dean's face up and searched his expression.

"Do it." Dean swallowed. "Please."


	5. Chapter 5

Give You What You Need

Sam stroked the braided leather handle of the last toy on the table. The one that Dean had stared at, transfixed, when Sam took him to the leather shop in San Francisco. Couldn't take his eyes off it. Sam knew his Dean had to have it. And Sam always gave Dean what he wanted.

And there it was. 24 thin leather tails, each with three wicked little knots, attached to the handle.

"Dean. You're sure you're ready."

Dean wiped his hand across his lips. "Yeah."

Sam ran the tips of his fingers through Dean's short hair. "You want me to warm you up first with the heavy flogger?"

The heavy flogger had a satisfying heavy thump, but very little sting. It was very like receiving a percussive massage, if Sam didn't put his whole strength into each strike. It practically put Dean into a trance. A good technique to get the endorphins flowing for harsher play.

But Dean shook his head no.

"Alright. Gotta gag you again, though. This one? This one's gonna get you real loud."

Dean swallowed hard.

Sam gagged Dean again. "Look so good like that. Fuck." Sam nipped lightly at Dean's lower lip. He took up the knotty cat and let it swing in an arc, ending with the knots smacking the palm of his hand. Dean's mouth twitched.

Sam led Dean to the back of the motel room. "Hands on the wall." Dean complied, leaning forward. Sam smoothed his palm over Dean's back, then leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You know what they call this one? 'A thousand points of pain.'"

Dean moaned through the gag.

"See, this type of flogger stings. Every little knot. The pain… it's sharp. Not dull and heavy like the other one." Sam brushed his lips over the back of Dean's neck. "It's nothing you've ever felt before." He traced his fingertips lightly over Dean's spine, down the thick muscles of his back, so lightly it barely registered—and with Dean's heightened senses, it made him shiver and writhe. Sam's lips ghosted over the curve of Dean's ear. "Gonna make you scream so pretty for me, Dean. Just like you need."

Sam stepped back, and swung the leather tails lightly against Dean's ass. He flinched, then breathed, relaxing. Sam brushed the knotty cat against the back of Dean's thighs, between his legs, along his back, letting him feel the thin leather cords.

"Keep your hands on the wall. Show me how much you can take for me." And with that, Sam stepped back and swung the flogger, flipping the leather tails with an overhand flick of the wrist, aiming precisely with his thumb as guide.

The tails flared out into a wide pattern. Dean hissed at the bite of it, recoiling from the sting.

"I warned you. Sure you still want this?"

Dean nodded his head furiously.

"Ok. Here goes."

Sam went to work, laying down stroke after stroke, pausing in between each one to let the effect of each reverberate through Dean's body. As the leather bit, Dean gasped, then as the pain kicked in on a slight delay, made a little sound through the gag. Another stroke… another sound punched out of Dean that sounded like, "Fuck."

"Wish I had something for you to hang on to. Pull against. When we settle down, I'm putting in something like that for you."

Sam stopped to smooth his hand over Dean's back. Dean was shaking, tears oozing from the corners of his eyes. "Doing so good, Dean. Can you take a little more for me?"

Dean pushed back towards Sam, wordlessly asking for more.

And Sam gave it to him. He lashed Dean faster, not pausing between strokes, letting the pain overlay and amplify, each kiss of the flogger leaving 72 sharp, vicious points of pain on Dean's back.

Dean cried out, balled his hands into fists, bowed his back, rose up on his toes, writhing under the cat, panting through the gag. After a particularly fierce stroke, he lifted his right hand from the wall.

Sam stepped close, kissed Dean through the gag, stroked Dean's achingly hard cock until Dean was arching into it, shuddering and gasping. "This is what you want, Dean. Begged me for it. Let me give it to you." Sam's breath was coming hard and fast too. "Know what you need. Let me. Just let me."

Dean shivered against Sam…then nodded and put his hand back on the wall, giving himself over to Sam completely.

Sam brought the knotty cat down sharp and fierce. The pain of it was exquisite, driving all thoughts out of Dean's mind other than _pain_ and _Sam_ and _need_. Drove out the thousand groping hands trying to pull him down, the memory of the light fading from the eyes of monsters, friends, fellow hunters, the memory of people he didn't save, people he failed. Drove out the guilt and fear and everything. Brought him into the present, inescapably in the right fucking now, anchored him here where the past couldn't hurt him and the future couldn't frighten him. Just now. With Sam. Giving him what he needed. Like Sam always did. His Sam. His Sammy.

Impact.

Sharp, agonizing pain.

Hoarse cry driven from his throat.

Answering moan from Sam.

Over. And over.

It was all too much. More than he could take. He knew it. Knew he'd found his hard limit. He took a deep shuddering breath, trembling hands lifting from the wall in supplication.

Sam stopped immediately and placed his hand on Dean's hip, rubbing it gently. Waiting. Knowing Dean was hovering on the edge of I can't.

Dean knew Sam was waiting. To see if Dean would give him just a little bit more.

He put his hands flat on the wall once again. Anything for Sam.

Sam blew out a breath, as if he couldn't believe it, and gave Dean more.

The leather scraped against already-howling flesh, bit down over and over. A thousand points of pain. Yes. Dean's cries grew louder, rougher, until he threw his head back and screamed, screamed from the very depths of his soul.

Sam dropped the knotty cat and spun Dean around, ripping off the gag and seizing his wet mouth in a desperate, claiming kiss. He pressed Dean against the wall, the hard surface against his bleeding back driving out a high-pitched wail, as Dean screamed into Sam's mouth.

This drove Sam into an absolutely frenzy. He pulled Dean's arms around his neck, wrapped his legs around Sam's waist, and drove his cock inside Dean's still-slick ass in one smooth thrust—then simply picked Dean up like he weighed nothing.

Dean almost forgot to breathe at the immense power of his little brother, melted under the force of it, dissolving and coming undone, letting Sam spread him wide and fuck up into him. Taking it. Taking it all.

Sam just stood in place in a rock-solid stance, gripping Dean's ass in both hands, and bounced him up and down on his cock, fucking him deeper than he'd ever done before. Dean, helpless and glorying in it, just had to take it. He screamed again, this time with the searing pleasure of it, riding his little brother's cock, so full, so pliant, so HIS.

"Sam," he choked out. "Sam. Sam. Yours."

Sam stared into Dean's face, bright red with pleasure, tears rolling down his face, shuddering and sobbing. "Fuck. Dean. Fuck. Come for me." Sam's hips stuttered as he started to come, pulsing deep inside Dean, crying out with the almost unbearable joy of it.

And Dean broke. Broke apart for Sam, releasing everything in an explosion of pleasure so incandescent it had to have woken all the angels and roused God himself from his slumber. The scream he uttered seemed to go on forever, body spasming so violently that Sam fell back onto the bed, still joined, Dean still coming, and still coming, and still coming.

Sam held Dean as he trembled and writhed, helpless, wracked by the ferocity of his orgasm, face upturned like he was begging God to make it stop.

Sam held Dean as he dissolved into sobs, ripped from the core of his being, stroked his hair and murmured, "Beautiful. So good, Dean. You took so much for me. So proud of you."

Dean cried harder at Sam's praise.

Sam rolled Dean onto his side, slipping out of him, positioned them on the pillows and held Dean for a very, very long time as he trembled and sobbed. "I love you, Dean. Christ. Love you so much."

Dean lay in his arms, exhausted, incoherent, making wordless sounds. Sam reached for the supplies he'd placed on the bedside table before the scene ever got started.

"Here. Eat this." Dean stared in confusion at the square of dark chocolate in Sam's hand. "Trust me. You need it." Dean opened his mouth and let Sam slip the chocolate onto his tongue.

Sam fed him seven squares of chocolate, praising him each time he swallowed. Then he gently rolled Dean onto his stomach, Dean complying like a sleepy child, and carefully cleaned between Dean's legs with a damp cloth, eliciting soft moans.

"Good boy."

Dean made a sound that sounded for all the world like a purr.

"Gonna use that cream now. That last bit kinda tore up your back." Sam started on the less-tender areas first, smoothing the thick cream into Dean's reddened ass and inner thighs. Dean parted his legs, giving Sam complete access, denying him no part of himself.

Sam smeared the soothing cream between Dean's legs, gently working it up inside Dean with the little finger of his left hand. Then with infinite delicacy, he painted it across Dean's back with his right hand, barely touching him.

The care Sam took not to hurt Dean now brought fresh tears to his eyes.

"You ok? Too sore?" Sam stopped at once. Dean just took Sam's hand in his and pressed it to his cheek, still too incoherent to formulate words.

"Ok to finish?"

Dean murmured a sound of assent.

Sam finished working the cream into Dean's skin. The redness began subsiding almost immediately. Sam wouldn't tell Dean where he got the stuff, but by its effects, Dean knew it wasn't civilian-made, and had a few supernatural properties.

Dean stirred.

Sam knew. "I got you." He got Dean standing, put his arm under Dean's shoulder and brought him stumbling into the bathroom. He kept him steady on his feet as Dean urinated, held a glass to Dean's kiss-swollen lips and made him take a nice long drink, then picked him up outright and carried him back to bed.

He settled Dean into bed under the blankets, on his side until the cream had a chance to heal him enough to bear the feel of fabric on his back, and crawled in facing him. Dean snuggled into Sam's arms without a whimper of protest or blowhard talk meant to preserve his manly dignity. Completely stripped of his hundred-layer thick wall of defenses, he nestled in Sam's embrace, utterly lax, completely purged.

Eventually, words returned to Dean. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Dean burrowed his face into Sam's chest. "Thank you."

Sam shivered. After a moment, he sniffled.

"You crying?" Dean peered up at Sam.

And Sam, also completely stripped of defenses, answered without hesitation or shame. "Yeah. I'm crying."

Part of what Dean loved—needed—about the whole BDSM thing he and Sam had was how Sam was with him for weeks afterward.

In a nutshell, Sam treated Dean like a war hero. He held doors open for Dean. Snuck out while Dean was napping and brought him back pie. Touched him constantly, brushing his fingertips over his thigh over breakfast, putting a hand on his shoulder as they drove. Stared at him reverently, not even bothering to try to conceal it in public. He made it shockingly clear to anyone within range how much he worshipped Dean. If there was a restaurant known for its steaks anywhere within a 100-mile radius, Sam sniffed it out, and made sure they stopped there. If laundry needed to be done, Sam did it, folded it, and put it away. He brought Dean the best whiskey he could ferret out. He massaged his shoulders during interviews. And if anything or anyone threatened Dean, he was ten times as vigilant about stepping in front of Dean, and taking out the threat with frightening speed and violence. Sometimes he even cleared entire nests by himself, not letting Dean get in so much as a single thrust of a stake.

Dean basked in the light and heat of Sam's overt adoration and pride, thirsty for it.

And every day, Sam would undress Dean like a child unwrapping the biggest and best present waiting for him under the Christmas tree, slowly removing layers until Dean was naked, then touching every inch of him with his fingertips, so lightly, then repeating it with his soft mouth and warm breath, all the while looking at Dean with so much love it caused a physical ache in Dean's chest. "You took so much for me, Dean. Can't believe it." He would gently coax Dean's thighs apart, kneel between them like he was praying, lick Dean open, taking his time because Dean loved the feel of Sam's tongue in his ass so very much, moaning against his flesh, murmuring that he could do this forever. After a long time, he would take Dean in his mouth, soft and wet, and suck him while he worked a finger inside him, just the way he loved it, until Dean was shivering and arching his back and coming into Sam's mouth. And Sam swallowed every drop and licked Dean clean.

And if Dean spread his legs and asked Sam to take him, Sam would shiver like he was caught in a rainstorm and enter Dean with breathless moans, hands shaking, in a way that Dean never saw him do except after times when Dean asked for Sam to top him.

After the first time this happened, Dean laughed a little nervously and said, "Dude. The way you just… it's like you're in church, and I'm something holy."

Sam rubbed his thumb over Dean's jaw, his other hand curled over the nape of Dean's neck, eyes gleaming. "That's because you are."


End file.
